


For the Empress

by MarcellaEReeves



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (though it pretty much is), Alternate Reality, Canon Compliant, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Not really PWP but close, dying in space hospital would probably have been kinder for Sven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 18:45:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12488404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcellaEReeves/pseuds/MarcellaEReeves
Summary: The Altean Invasionary Peace Force had made contact with Earth three days before Akira's 18th birthday. They'd come to spread their message of peace and stability to humanity, and Akira had been found by them, half Altean, all the way out on some backwater planet. He'd been taken in by the Peace Force, raised as a member.But that was then, and this is now.Now he has ex-Galaxy Academy hero turned Guns of Garmora agent Sven Holgersson under him and calling him Keith? Well, he only has one option, doesn't he?For the Empress, of course...





	For the Empress

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Blue's lovely NSFW art that I found when I opened Tumblr earlier: http://0705blue.tumblr.com/post/166761053517/nsfw-mobsven-sviromore

He’d been found on Earth.   
  
The Altean Invasionary Peace Force had made contact three days before his 18th birthday with harmless innocence and promises of introductions to technologies unknown. The leaders of Earth had been pulled in with their temptations, so fledgeling in their steps towards FTL travel, and the Altean ships had been a glossy and masterfully crafted temptation. They’d come offering peace.  
  
Lies, of course.  
  
What those leaders hadn’t realised then, they were too brain-dead to comprehend now. The Alteans called them non-cogs, Akira only knew that because he’d been spared at the last moment from becoming one.  
  
He still had the scars on the back of his head to prove it.  
  
The machines that would have stripped him of his autonomy had registered the traces of alien blood, Altean blood, and stopped at the last moment, but not without mangling his flesh with magical branding, turning his dark hair white in that area. He still didn’t understand how he’d been born on Earth then, and he’d been questioned for days about his knowledge and purpose.  
  
When he’d been considered innocent, he’d been welcomed into the Empire. Encouraged to learn his new history. At least he could stop wearing makeup to cover his markings. They’d been freakishly cool red birthmarks or pen as a child, the tattoos of a delinquent as he’d neared adulthood until he’d started wearing concealer.  
  
It was now unnecessary, and Akira found himself somehow still glad that he’d not inherited their pointed ears, even if his were slightly more squared than rounded, and pointed him out as a half-breed.  
  
The liberation had been years ago. It was called a liberation to Alteans, liberation from war and bloodshed, from instability. Akira had joined the Peace Force, trying to find his new place amongst the universe. Their ways had suited him, even though their message hadn’t. But he didn’t have a choice. And… truthfully, he’d been sick of seeing the war and the famine that had clung to humanity. On Earth, he’d switched between making himself promise not to watch the news, being good, breaking up the fights that broke out at the Academy and calming tense situations.

Then, some days a blanket of depression would settle over him and he’d watch endless reports of the crimes of man, retreating to his room where he could only to watch more. When fights had broken out in the hallways then, Akira had hoped they’d been fatal, silently watching and believing humanity to be the sickness on the planet. 

  
He’d force the depression back, force himself not to watch the news anymore, to go jogging, force himself to be a normal person. The cycle would repeat.  
  
But Akira had found himself at ease with the Alteans, he’d performed well in their hierarchy and risen through the ranks. He’d lead his own command, engaging on missions against those who dared threaten the glory of the Empire.  
  
People like this man. Pinned under him by his blade at throat. Mostly the sword was ceremonial, but he’d still been trained to use it. When the human had lowered his gun, whispering the name of some long-lost lover, he assumed, Akira had attacked. (“Keith..?” was certainly an Earth name.)  
  
But lost eyes reminded him of his life before the Empire, back in the frozen wastelands of Northern Europe, where the Galaxy Academy had been located. A picture on the wall of a man lost in space.  
  
At the time he’d dismissed the accident, writing the man off as being too aggressive to land a shuttle correctly, and with it his feelings. Now there was no mistaking the face that had haunted the times he’d spent alone in his Academy bunk, imagined touches of the dead man wrapped around him instead of his own clammy hand. It was usually enough to send him in a depressive cycle again, Sven Holgersson was simply too prone to violent outbursts for his attraction to be healthy.  
  
They’d never even spoke during his time at the Academy.  
  
But now the man was pinned and disarmed under his sword, Akira could recognise his new identity, a member of the Guns of Gamara, a traitor to the glory of the Empire. There was fear etched on Sven’s face now, as well as something akin to quiet hope. He was probably one of the only cognitive humans left, if not the only one, and whatever image Akira presented of this “Keith”, it was giving Holgersson false hope.  
  
For the Empress, he told himself as he stood, never lowering his sword.  
  
‘For the Empress’, he told the assembled as Holgersson was lifted, dragged away screaming by his command for processing.  
  
That had been then.  
  
Now, he had the man under him again, silent to his ministrations. A mental push, Altean powers he’d been learning to use, and he could feel the edge of the Hoktril. Every command was accepted and performed. _Raise your hips._ His angle shifted deeper, thrusts increasing in speed. There was still too much skin in the way… _Spread your legs more_ and _ah!_ _There_ was the friction he wanted.  
  
He leaned down until he was breathing the same air as the non-cog. Hot and sweet, his rhythm breaking as he was dragged closer to his breaking point, fists clenching in the sheets. And Holgersson was looking so pretty for him now, without the promise of violence. Prettier than he ever had done back at the Academy, despite the almost fatal looking blast scar across his chest.  
  
Now that Sven had been processed, the only sounds that filled the room were his own panting and the slapping of flesh on flesh. He was reaching his end, the coil in the pit of his stomach overwound and threatening to snap, and with a thought, Sven pulled him in with heels on his lower back.  
  
The encouragement was all he needed to break, burying himself to the hilt with a final snap of his hips and emptying his load into the compliant body with a low moan. Holgersson hadn’t uttered a single sound during the entire exchange, and Akira wiped his thumb over his lip with a smile as he recovered.  
  
He’d preferred it. He’d enjoyed letting himself be greedy.  
  
Perhaps Akira would say he might have liked a more reactive partner in bed, or that like this, Sven was only a toy for him now. But he found himself shrugging off the thought. Reactive in bed at the expense of violence outside, and he found himself unable to justify the cost.  
  
No, Sven was much better like this, as he pulled out, and the non-cog went to clean them both up with a mental push. Akira much preferred it.  
  
For the Empress, he’d told himself at the time, the lie to hide the truth. But the real reason?  
  
For himself, of course.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll admit, Blue's fanart is fabulous, though I feel I've crossed a line in that I've turned it from Sven/Shiro to Akira/Sven BUT IN MY DEFENCE non-cog Sven isn't with -someone- specifically, so he could be with -anyone-. 
> 
> (Also this might be the only Akira/Sven piece I ever write, outside of commissions. I'm not sure I intend to take this world any further)
> 
> Also, pretend something happened to Slav for Sven to be wandering around on a mission on his own. Maybe this is the reality where he got caught in four Chinese finger traps and so wasn't able to go on this mission with Sven. 
> 
> It's a shame, he could have saved him. "That's not Keith you idiot, he's wearing Altean armour" 
> 
> Come say hi! I don't bite~
> 
> Tumblr: marcellaereeves.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: twitter.com/MarcellaEReeves


End file.
